Bone Hunter Page 17

  “Amen,” answered the gathering in the living room. All sat with arms folded across their chests, heads bowed.

  “Amen,” I whispered, my eyes brimming with tears.

  “We’ll have no lesson tonight,” he said. “It’s late already, and Timmy needs extra sleep.”

  Several heads bobbed up in surprise.

  “Um, but until we meet again, we shall all contemplate the miracle of continued revelation. We shall all pray that more of God’s plan for each and every one of us will be revealed.”

  Ray nodded to Enos, who rose and followed him over to the miniature rocking chair in which Timothy sat sniffling. Enos put his hands on the child’s near shoulder.

  “Dear Heavenly Father,” Ray said, “I ask that you bring the bounty of renewed health to Your son Timothy.” Ray opened the vial and poured a drop of oil on the crown of his sniffling nephew’s head. He closed and pocketed the vial, placed both hands atop the child’s head, and closed his eyes for a while. “In Christ’s name, amen.”

  “Amen,” said his family.

  Ray and Enos then moved to Nina. “Dear Heavenly Father—” Ray was interrupted as Nina slid off the couch and knelt in front of him, eyes closed, arms folded in prayer. The women’s eyes widened at what was apparently an unusual posture for receiving a blessing. Ray said, “Dear Heavenly Father, we ask that You shine Your special light upon Your daughter Nina, that she may grow in Your love and kindness. Help her to know Your plan for her. Enfold her in Your comfort in this, her hour of need.” He anointed her head and placed his hands upon her flaxen hair. Enos put his hands on her shoulder. “In Christ’s name, amen.”

  “Amen.”

  Then Ray turned toward me. He stared out through the open doorway at me, a silent invitation to come and be blessed. A few heads turned, watching me in curiosity.

  My feet were frozen to the ground.

  Ray bowed his head again, and said, “Dear Heavenly Father, we ask a special blessing also for Your daughter Emily Hansen, that she may also know Your deepest love and guidance in the days to come. In Christ’s name, amen.”

  “Amen,” said his family.

  I could not respond. My lips had frozen, too.

  16

  I AWOKE FROM A TERRIBLE DREAM IN WHICH SHINING bronze teeth were flying toward my face. I sat bolt upright in bed, gasping, the image of those teeth, four inches long, curved, serrated, continued to sink into my now-waking consciousness, biting, twisting … . I switched on the bedside lamp, fighting to clear the image from my mind.

  Nina was gone. I felt it in the center of my brain before I fully understood the scene that was in front of me. I swiveled my legs out from under the bedclothes and stood up.

  Nina’s bed was empty, the sumptuous comforter neatly replaced over the pillow and the flannel nightgown Ava had lent her laid tenderly across the bed.

  Still reeling from the strength and horror of the dream, I ran across the room and checked the bathroom. Nina was not there. I grabbed my jacket on the way out into the hall and ran for the stairs, flicking on lights as I went, unconcerned about how much noise I made or whom I awoke. I searched the kitchen, the living room, the study, and the dining room, and as I doubled back through the kitchen, I almost ran smack into Ava. “What’s happened?” she demanded, pulling her robe more tightly around her throat.

  “Nina’s gone. Made her bed. Gone.” I felt a chill run through me, a sensation like getting wet. It set off a series of associations.” I said, “We need to check the pool.”

  Ava threw the sliding door wide and flicked on the patio light.

  I broke into a run and charged toward the pool. A little voice in my head said, You’re not a swimmer. What do you think you’re doing?

  I hit the water feetfirst. The chill jabbed every inch of my body like needles, but I groped about in the water, feeling for flesh that I feared would be as cold. As my lungs began to scream for air, I came roaring to the surface, thrashing, clawing for the side. “I—I can’t find her!” I screamed.

  Ava broke through the surface ten feet from me and spluttered, “Kirsten! The light!”

  Suddenly, light flooded the waters, and I saw Nina’s silent form beneath the surface, a flower with petals formed of wafting hair and dress, an improbable angel hovering in the waters. A haze of blood bloomed from one side of her head. “There!” I yelled.

  Ava bent and dove, her strong athletic arms driving her quickly to the sunken girl. I watched her grasp Nina and kick, lifting her from the bottom. The water’s surface shattered again as Ava reached for air, reeled Nina into an armlock, and pulled toward the steps at the shallow end of the pool with strong, certain strokes. “Phone nine one one!” she yelled. “I don’t think she’s breathing.”

  “Already got them on the line, Mumma,” Kirsten called from the edge of the pool. “Send an ambulance. Hurry!” In the soft illumination from the underwater floodlights, I saw Kirsten’s slender hands set down a cordless phone and reach to help draw Nina out of the pool. She grunted as she fell backward onto the decking, hauling Nina’s limp form with her.

  Ava hurried up the steps and the two rolled Nina onto her back, checked her pulse, and listened for breath. Mother and daughter glanced quickly at each other, shook their heads, and set to work initiating CPR. Kirsten straightened her arms, placed both hands on Nina’s chest, and threw her weight toward it. Ava bent, pinched Nina’s nose, closed her lips around Nina’s pale mouth, and breathed.

  Kirsten fell in rhythmic lurches onto Nina’s rib cage. Ava listened. Breathed. Listened.

  Suddenly, Nina coughed, sputtered, and belched pool water onto the decking.

  Ava said, “Good, you foolish girl, breathe the breath God gave you!”

  Kirsten asked, “She okay, Mumma?”

  Nina’s eyes fluttered open. She coughed again, moaned, and raised a hand to the wound on her head.

  “She’ll be fine,” Ava told Kirsten. “Phone Ray, will you?”

  “I already did.”

  Ava gave her daughter a kiss on the forehead. “When did you do that, you clever girl?”

  “Just before I dialled nine one one. Speed dialer, Mumma. He answered on the first ring, and all I said was, ‘Nina’s in the pool. Come,’ and hung up. Do you think I ought to give him another call?”

  “No, that will do it. But unlock the front door so the medics can get in. Nina’s bleeding.”

  Nothing bleeds like a head wound. Blood now coated the decking underneath her head, eerily dark in the light from the pool and porch light. Nina began to shiver, as much from shock as from the cold. “Th-th-thank You,” she said. “D-dear Heavenly F-father, th-thank You.”

  Ava folded a fresh expanse of her nightgown, pressed it against Nina’s face and said softly, “What are you talking about, girl? You’re not making sense. You try to kill yourself, and now you’re thanking God for saving you.”

  “N-no!” Nina said. “I didn’t! I … I tripped.”

  “You what?” I said.

  “I … I was just out here to pray,” Nina said in a tiny lost voice. “I can’t swim … I … I heard a noise … I’m not used to the city … I stepped backwards and tripped over something in the dark. I know better. Brother Neph—”

  “You were out here praying? You’ll catch your death of cold!” Ava scolded.

  “Th-thank You, F-Father!” Nina bawled. “You sent Your angel into the waters to draw me out! Dear Heavenly Father, th-thank Thee for Thy m-mercy! I am reborn!”

  “Thank Em, dear.” Ava looked up at me and gave me a look I could not quite decipher. “What woke you, Em?” she asked. “Which one of your five senses told you Nina was in trouble?”

  I couldn’t answer. In the moment that Nina had given herself up to her prayer of thanksgiving, her face had stretched long and her eyes had focused into pinpoints of light. With the softness of her youth thus erased, I noticed for the first time how high her cheekbones were, and recognized the antic glow of charismatic zealotry I had seen that morni
ng up at Snowbird in the face of the bearded man.

  AVA BRUSHED AND dried Nina’s hair as if she were a little girl, delicately arranging it around the butterfly sutures the paramedics had applied to her forehead. “There, now,” she said soothingly, “that’s lovely. You have lovely hair, Nina; so soft and shiny. George is surely smiling on you from heaven.”

  Nina tugged the high-necked flannel gown closer to her throat and leaned up against Ava, heightening the effect of childishness. “Do you really think so?” she asked. “I do so want him to be proud of me.”

  “Oh, Nina , he is. What more could a man ask than that his wife love him as you do?”

  Nina snuffled. “I did my best.”

  “And your best was excellent.”

  I watched from the comfort of my own bed, wishing someone would care for me like that. But Ava was intent on Nina, who had suffered more than just a dousing. And, I was sure, Ava saw no need to comfort me. I was, after all, still good old poker-faced Em, the one who needs nothing, asks nothing. The one who manages at all times to shy away from such things as intimacy.

  “Ava,” Nina asked tentatively, “your husband has passed on, too, right?”

  “Yes … .”

  “Well, I was wondering … how do you . . know for sure that he loved you, too?”

  Ava turned off the dryer but continued to comb Nina’s now glossy hair, running the brush with one hand and smoothing it with the other. “Look into your heart, Nina; you know the answer to that question. When you fall in love, all the world seems to smile at you, but that’s not love. Loving is an active verb, a thing you do, not just some feeling that overwhelms you today and fades tomorrow.” She glanced sidelong at me, just a split second, but I noticed. “Look at how he treated you, not what he said. When you love someone, you do for that love what you would do for yourself, or for God; you care for it, nurture it, do right by it, follow its dictates, no matter what it costs you. Love is rewarded for its own sake, with a deeper satisfaction than the flesh can know.” She glanced at me again, and this time I was certain she was sending me a message. Was she warning me away from her boy or instructing me on how to love him?

  Nina said, “But what do I do now, Ava? George is gone!”

  Ava drew the crown of the girl’s head to her lips. “That will come to you, Nina. You continue to love him, that’s all.”

  Nina contracted, and the tears began to flow again. “He … he looked so awful! His chest was ripped open. And … and he was gray and purple!”

  Ava put her arms around the girl and rocked her. “Nina, my husband died slowly. In great pain. He had cancer. By the time he died, he was shrunken up like a lizard. His cheekbones stuck out like a skull’s. His eyes were yellow with jaundice. His breath was … indescribable. He shook. He moaned. There were big red scars from the surgeon’s incisions all over him. But I told myself that deep inside he was still the boy I’d married. I let him see that in my eyes. I held my love up to him instead of a mirror, so he could see his true self and not despair. Now you do that, too, Nina; look into your heart to the man you love there, and know that he is strong and whole again, and waiting for you in the Celestial Kingdom, loving you just the same.”

  Nina sniffled. “I want to … .”

  Ava smiled into Nina’s eyes. “Think of him as the god he is becoming. It’s easy. It erases that other image. That fades, and you get back George as you knew him at all ages, and all times. Now get some sleep. Everything will seem easier in the morning.” She laid her fragile houseguest back against the sheets, pulled the covers up to her chin, and kissed her cheek just as if she’d been her own daughter.

  TWO HOURS LATER, Nina spoke to me from the darkness, her voice hushed by the soft pillows and comforter that surrounded her head. “Em?”

  “Yes, Nina?” I tried not to sound as exhausted as I felt.

  “Thank you.”

  “It was nothing, Nina.”

  “How can I ever repay you?”

  “I’ll think of something,” I said flippantly. I rolled over and looked for the fifth or sixth time at the bedside clock. It was half past three. Ava had left at two, and each time I had nearly drifted off since then, Nina had let out a quavering sob. I despaired of getting further sleep.

  “Em?”

  “Yes, Nina?”

  “How did you know I was d-drowning?”

  “I—” How had I known? “I woke up from a dream is all. You weren’t there, so I went looking for you.”

  “What was the dream?”

  “It was—” No, I couldn’t tell her about those teeth. Not if I ever hoped to have her get back to sleep and leave me hope of doing so also. “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

  Nina was quiet for a moment, and then she said, “Em?”

  “Yes, Nina?”

  “What are you?”

  I tensed further, fearful that the poor chick thought I was an angel. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you’re a Gentile, but George said there were different kinds.”

  I recalled the Mormon definition of Gentile—anyone who is not Mormon—and said, “I’m a freethinker, I guess.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “It means I follow what makes sense and seems truest.”

  “But isn’t that dangerous?”

  This idea startled me. “No, I don’t think so. Don’t you think everyone should have the freedom of their own beliefs?”

  “But Brother Nephi says that freedom of belief is the handmaiden of the Devil. He says—”

  “Brother who?”

  “Oh!” I could hear the swish of crisp bedclothes rubbing together as Nina pulled herself up into a ball.

  “Who is Brother Nephi, Nina?”

  Breathlessly she answered, “I’m not supposed to talk about him to the outside!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s God’s annointed, and we have to protect him from the evil of small minds.” The words came out like a recitation.

  I thought about asking how small she thought my mind was, but I let it go. So she was part of a cult led by a paranoiac, or perhaps some escapee from the law who was hiding under the cloak of religious propriety. So what. As long as he didn’t know where to find us, I wanted desperately to sleep. “I’m sure he knows what he’s doing,” I said, trying to keep the note of irony out of my voice.

  “If he even knew I was staying in this house, he’d be angry.”

  At a loss for anything more intelligent to say in comfort, I mumbled, “Don’t worry, Nina. Brother Raymond gave you Heavenly Father’s blessing tonight, and I’m sure he knew what he was doing, too.”

  But what had Ray been doing? That entire scene had been alien to me, a glimpse into another world. I was still trying to figure out what channel my mental television had been tuned to.

  I heard sobbing. Nina had the waterworks running again. I lay in the dark, listening, wondering when I could hope to greet the oblivion of sleep again. I folded my hands on the counterpane, resigning myself to the likelihood that my brief snooze on the couch before dinner and the two or three hours of sleep I’d gotten before Nina went swimming might be it for the night. I stared balefully at the illuminated dial of the bedside clock. It was almost four. After Ava had left, I’d listened to Nina sob for two hours, and now this. Girl talk, panic, and more sobs. Ray was right: Nina didn’t come from a background anything like mine. “What about George?” I asked. “How would George have liked you to handle this time of stress?”

  Nina sucked in her breath. “George was wonderful.” She snuffed. “He was like a dream.”

  I stretched my arms up and put them underneath my head, giving up the hope of sleep in favor of more information about George. “Tell me about him, Nina. Please. I get so many conflicting stories about him.”

  Nina slipped out of her bed and came to sit on the edge of mine, her tiny form barely jostling the springs. “He was always so kind to me,” she said. “I knew he’d be kind the first time I
met him.”

  “When was that?” I asked softly, making my voice easy, soothing, in hopes that it would move her over the invisible threshold that was keeping her from telling what she felt tightly constrained against telling.

  “Eight years ago,” she said dreamily.

  “How old were you?” I whispered.

  “Ten … .” She sighed, lost in the cushion of memory.

  “How did you meet him?” I asked, trying to make my voice a warm draft for her to follow. I felt like I was keeping a soap bubble aloft, afraid to touch it with anything but my breath, hoping it wouldn’t burst.

  “I was out driving the goats and I found him digging in a hole. I ran to get Brother Nephi, of course, and he got his rifle and said he was going to go work some magic to make him go away, but then hours later, he brought George home and we killed one of the chickens and had a feast of thanksgiving. It was very exciting. Mummy told me later that George and Nephi had known each other in the Before Times, so it was okay, and that George would help bring us manna, and that was why I was given to George, you see, to seal his life to ours.”

  “Manna? Before times? Wait—”

  “Before the Anointment.”

  “Oh. So Brother Nephi was not anointed at first.”

  “Oh, no. He lay in the Valley of the Shadow of Death and he took a Magic Potion and an angel came to him and anointed him and told him that he would rise up and sow his seed plentifully and bring his tribe through the Years of Hardship to the Promised Land.” As she recited these words, her voice tightened from proud to anxious, and she quickly added, “But I shouldn’t be telling you that.”

  “Oh,” I said, not sure what else one says when confronted by such a story. “And so George brought you manna?” I was trying to remember what manna was. Some sort of food or sustenance lying free for the taking in the desert …

  “I shouldn’t talk about it.”